


Sleepless

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Coming Untouched, Hullen are vampires au, M/M, Non Consensual Biting, only slightly alternate, vampire bite orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 21:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21224321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: Turin often slips away to unreachable places to sleep, but this evening his sanctuary is proving to be not so unreachable.tldr; what if the hullen were also vampires





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> so very self indulgent, I just wanted Turin to be fed on by vampire but also hullen fancy. set some time in S3?? i guess?

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There were few places in the R.A.C. that Turin considered peaceful – his R.A.C., like most, was a floating powder keg of personal problems, and aggression issues, and people with some kind of fucked up personality defects; only damaged people became Killjoys- it made for a messy work environment.

But there were spots, in the older portions of the R.A.C. where the hum of the generators, and sub vocal rumble of the engines were less noticeable. Shadowy corners, dimly lit hallways that lead to dimly lit rooms. He knew many places where a person could stay for days, possibly weeks, before their presence was noted.

He had a small desk, and a cot set up in one of those places. He wasn’t _off_ the station so the R.A.C.’s AI would say he was onboard, but at level 60, most people didn’t have the access required to physically get to him. Besides, now _team awesome force_ went to the wastelands whenever they had the faintest issues, he really needed a place to disappear to and _sleep_.

The room was dark, but warm, and most importantly, _empty_. 

Turin sighed, standing in the doorway and rubbing the heels of both palms over his tired eyes. There was a peg on the wall for his sidearm, and when it was hung up, he toed off his boots and slid off his vest, hanging it over his gun. The cot was narrow, with a single blanket and pillow, pushed up against the wall across from the door. Turin dropped onto it, turning towards the wall as he dragged the blanket over his clothes.

He dropped into a dreamless, exhausted sleep immediately.

~*~

Something moving around the dim room woke him, creeping quietly around the edges. Likely whoever it was had hoped to snoop without him waking up, but they obviously weren’t familiar with Turin’s habits.

There should be _no_ noise in this room, nothing to wake him before his alarm. That’s _why_ he slept here; with the constant low-level chaos, he just couldn’t get any sort of quality sleep in his own quarter. He was too readily-accessible there, and everyone was willing the kick shit up the chain any hour of the day or night.

Keeping his breathing shallow, Turin sat up; the cot was silent, and his socked feet made no sound as he placed them in the floor. The intruder was no more then a shadow, rifling through the pockets on his vest, with their back to him.

Turin scowled. _Who in the hells figured this place out?_ _Damned Jaqobis, probably. Or at least the smart one. _ But the figure stood, and the long sweep of black hair made Turin’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead.

_“Fancy?”_

The man straightened, and turned towards him. it was dim in the room, the light from the doorway falling to Fancy’s left, but Turin could see enough of his expression to see a wrongness to the smirk on the killjoy’s face.

A lot happened very fast.

Fancy had always been quick as a snake, but it was almost unnatural how quickly he crossed the room; he swung at Turin, and the strike lifted his hair with the wind of it passing as Turin stepped hastily to the side, kicking out Fancy’s leg and slipping around behind the taller killjoy as Fancy fell onto the cot. Turin lunged for his gun, but fell up short as Fancy grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked Turin back across the room. He crashed hard into Fancy’s chest, and slammed his elbow backwards- or tried to, but with the same snakey quickness Fancy dodged him, an arm going around Turin’s throat and pressing warningly down on his airway. He caught Turin’s next strike with one hand, twisting the arm behind Turin’s back.

It had barely been five seconds, and Fancy had him restrained. He clawed at the arm choking him, but between Fancy’s thick coat and his own short nails, he made no headway.

“Stop struggling.”

The hands restraining him tightened, and Turin grunted in pain as his wrist bones ground together, forced higher up behind his back. His eyes started to spot, blinking rabidly against the greying edges as he was choked. Reluctantly, Turin fell still, dropping the hand clawing at Fancy’s arm.

Fancy loosened his grip, and Turin sucked in deep breathes.

“Fancy, _what the hells_?” His voice was rough from the choking, but his anger was clear.

“I was trying no to disturb you.”

Turin kicked at his shins, irritation spiking at the flippant reply, then hisses as the Hullized killjoy squeezed his trapped wrist hard.

“Okay! Okay! Uncle!” yelped Turin.

The pressure eased off again, but the ache remained.

“What are you doing here, Fancy? How did you even get onto the R.A.C.?” Hullinized killjoys had had their authorization removed- he’d done it himself. Fancy’s passcode wouldn’t get him onto level 1, let alone level 60. He couldn’t see him, so Turin settle on glaring at the wall.

The Hullen didn’t answer him. Instead, he pressed his nose against Turin’s loose, bedswept hair, and breathed in. Turin froze, skin prickling. _ What the fuck- _Fancy made a satisfied hum, his warm breath tickling Turin’s ear as he spoke.

“You have no idea how god you smell to us.”

_Creepy and creepier_. 

He leaned his head away from Fancy, breathing fast.

Turin jostled his elbow back, more to register his displeasure with the action then it was an attempt to strike him. Surprisingly, Fancy shoved him away, and Turin stumbled several steps, socked feet sliding on the polished floor.

He didn’t get a chance to even look at his gun, before the Hullen had him pinned again; pushed face first with his wrists pinned on either side of his head. Fancy’s weight rested against him, crowding Turin until the _heat_ of him was soaking through his thin clothes. The Hullen laughed softly, and Turin’s legs were forced apart by Fancy’s knee. He leaned his full weight against Turin, although it wasn’t necessary; Hullen strength meant he was pinned like a butterfly, unable to do more then thrash in frustration.

An angry, confused, ginger butterfly.

“_What the hells, _Fancy—”

Fancy ignored him, his thumbs stroking Turin’s pinned hands idly; his mouth was too close to Turin’s skin, Fancy’s nose dragging slowly down his neck to his nudge just inside the collar of his tshirt. Fancy took another obvious sniff, and Turin hyperaware of every point they touched.

“Fancy, what are you doing?” Turin asked stiffly, unease taking root.

“You smell good. I’m curious if you taste as good as you smell,” said Fancy in the same thoughtful, unconcerned tone of voice that made. He flinched in surprise at the wet touch of the Hullen’s tongue; Fancy tightened his grip on Turin, tongue tracing his thudding artery. Turin was tense under his touch, breath frozen in his chest.

_How I taste._

No, he wasn’t going to let _ that_ happen! He thrashed, hard as he could, and Fancy responded by pushing his knee farther between Turin’s legs, pushing up until he was on his toes to keep from riding Fancy’s thigh. Turin grunted in frustration.

“You’re sick in the head if you think I’m going to let you bite me,” Turin snarled, but it was all noise; he couldn’t do more then shift his weight, Fancy was pressed so close, the hard line of his body as solid as the wall he’d been thrown against.

The Hullen licked his neck again, and then pressed his open mouth against his pulse point, and Turin felt the prick of teeth, threateningly dancing across the surface of his skin. Fancy scrapped his teeth almost teasingly, then bit down.

Turin had been warned about the Hullen’s vampire-like tendencies, but no one had told him about hot rush of pleasure that rode on the heels of the pain, how it only hurt for a moment as their teeth sank. He would have staggered, knees going weak, but Fancy’s body was already there, bracing him when his knees went numb; body curving into Fancy, into the bite. The Hullen took his weight easily, Turin sinking down onto his thigh, and when the Killjoy’s fingers curled against the wall in pleasure rather then anger, he released his captive wrists.

Turin was too lost in the rolling heat that suddenly filled his blood, like a thousand mouths were pressed to his skin. It was frightening in its intensity, intimate in a way that made him feel nude, rather then fully clothed. He could feel him, as if he were pressed right up against his skin.

Turin was breathing through his mouth, wet and fast, and when Fancy brought his arm around Turin’s chest, shifting him so he leaned back, Turin grabbed at his sleeve. He didn’t pull it, just held on for dear life. The world was rocking, his heart hammering, and this Hullin prick was his only anchor point.

Fancy’s fangs sliding free of his flesh made him shake, but he refused to moan, biting his own tongue hard.

“I’ve been told it’s very intense,” Fancy whispered, pressing a soft, bloody kiss to the bite. “I’ve even heard you can cum from it. How does it feel, Turin? To be on the edge from just one bite?” His breath was hot on Turin’s skin, hotter than the flush rising on his face, crawling down his neck. He seemed hyper aware of Fancy, the strands of his dark, straight hair as they brushed Turin’s shoulder- Fancy pulling his shirt collar farther down, leaning so close. His touch was very sure.

The second bite, Turin moaned. Loudly; he couldn’t hold it in. His spine turned to liquid, and he tilted his head back, gasping like a fish. Fancy’s hand running down his chest, pausing to rest on his belly, just above his fly, felt like it was made entirely out electricity. Turin clung to his arm, squeezing his eyes shut.

But it only made things worse. Fancy had been right; it felt like there was a direct line connecting his dick and his neck, and every sift of Fancy’s teeth, every wet, hot pass of his tongue over Turin’s skin, felt like a hand was on his dick. He went from being pissed off to fully aroused , mind skittering away from the reality of the situation. _Lips on my skin. A thousand mouths, kissing, nipping._

Fancy pulled his teeth free once more, and Turin came in his pants with a muffled curse, biting his tongue. It felt like he was being coaxed thru it, unnaturally intense considering the Hullen had his hands all politely above Turin’s waist.

Sticky jeaned, and shivering from the echoes of sensation, nerves buzzing with exhaustion, Turin slid to the ground, head bowed against the wall as he panted.

When he gathered himself enough to look around, Fancy was gone.


End file.
